Westeros’ Most Eligible Bachelor | a Jonerys fanfic
A Game of Thrones/Bachelor AU. Written for Jonerys Valentines 2019 and the prompt “The One That Got Away.” Dedicated to @mhysaofdragons since she asked for it :) Thank you to @jalenmara and @adecila for their wonderful help on this story!
Jon was too hungover for this. Closing his eyes against the blur of trees streaking past the tinted window, he leaned his head back on the seat. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”
“If you’re having regrets, it’s too late to back out now. You already signed the contract,” Tyrion reminded him, like the annoying prick he was. Jon opened his eyes to look at his communications secretary seated across from him, but the man’s nose was still buried in his phone, thumbs tapping away at the screen. Jon’s personal bodyguard, Sandor, sat opposite Jon as well, stoic and unmoving, black sunglasses concealing any expression on his face.
“I’m bloody well aware of that,” Jon said through gritted teeth. His father had all but held the pen in Jon’s hand as he signed his life away for the next ten weeks—and then some, depending on the outcome of this ridiculous stunt.
Tyrion finally spared him a look, eyeballing his disheveled state with barely disguised reproval. His smile was droll. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have stayed up all night partying. You knew we had an early morning.”
“It wasn’t all night,” Jon refuted without much heat, looking back out the window. Bad idea. He pinched the bridge of his nose where he felt the beginnings of a headache. “Fucking Theon,” he muttered to himself. Theon Greyjoy, an old family friend, had flown into King’s Landing the day before with Jon’s cousin, Robb Stark, promising a stag party of epic proportions before Jon tied on the “old ball and chain,” as Robb had joked. Jon had asked him what Talisa would think of that, which had mercifully ended Robb’s torment over Jon’s upcoming venture into reality TV, though Theon had persisted in his sharp-tongued jabs all night.
Theon was clearly seething with envy and resentment; he’d always been a petty, jealous man. In hindsight, Jon realized his friend had likely hoped to sabotage his first day on set. He never should have let the bastard talk him into staying out till four in the morning, long after even Robb had taken the chauffeured car back to the Red Keep to pass out—though probably not till after first making a drunken, weepy phone call to his wife back home in Winterfell.
“You know, you’re your own worst enemy,” Tyrion continued as if Jon hadn’t spoken.
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